


Safari

by the_mad_shadow



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 00:09:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13446342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_mad_shadow/pseuds/the_mad_shadow
Summary: Because it's my pupcake, and I want it now!





	Safari

**Author's Note:**

> A little something to tide us non-Brits over until CtM is released for us. Based on an image set that I saw on Tumblr. Also: Botswanna is historically incorrect; it's the Bechuanaland Protectorate, which was governed by the British until 1966.

They chose the Bechuanaland Protecterate because it was far. Because Patsy had said _wherever I go next, you’re coming with me_ and where she had gone next was Africa. Because no one knew them, and no one could judge them, and they could just be free to exist in the open air. Because Delia had wanted to go far, but Patsy had ruled out the Far East with all of its memories and sadness. And because sharing a room on a safari was a lot less scandalous than sharing a room in a convent ever was.

Delia has developed a dusting of freckles on her face, and Patsy has taken to kissing them each morning as she wakes, the routine taking longer and longer as more and more appear. Patsy lounges on a chair, cigarette in hand, big floppy hat covering her head. At first, Delia had insisted on it to protect her porcelain skin from the sun, but really, it makes the red head look like a film star. Delia finds herself secretly snapping photos to squirrel away in albums, hidden until they’re old and grey and looking back on old times fondly.

Two weeks have passed, and she never wants to go back. They spend their days exploring and seeing the sites: watering holes with majestic giraffes and leaping lechwe, grassy savannas with wildebeests locking horns in a fight to the death. Each day brings new sights, sounds, and smells, and yet the next never fails to top the last in wonder. But the nights. The nights are her favorite. Eating meals together against the backdrop of stars and birds, never needing to subdue their feelings as merely glances. Patsy singing as she cleans, always off-tune and always something decidedly _not_ Billy Fury. 

The simple act of falling asleep on her lover’s chest, to be woken by nothing but the sun peeking over the horizon.

There’s no need for pretext. No need to hide who they are in their tiny enclave. They exist wholly and completely alone, and she wishes with all her heart they could stay like this. She knows it cannot last, this purity of spirit, but it gives her something to hold on to.

On day three, Delia had discovered that Patsy was, unexpectedly, _loud_. Unburdened, she let free in bouts of unbridled joy, crying out for all the world to hear (it’s only elephants and the occasional zebra). Delia has made it her personal mission to find all the ways she can elicit the response.

They cling to these moments. Cling to them because when others appear, they need to be more careful than ever. They’re not just sinful here, they’re _illegal_. The few times they see another soul only serve to underline this fact. Patsy freezes her out, refusing to be within even touching distance, for fear that something or other would raise suspicion. It’s a careful balancing act. They still don’t have it mastered. So Delia takes to writing postcards to soothe her mind, knowing that relaying their adventures to their friends back home will cover her in warmth and always taking care to include something extra in her note to Phyllis.

Goodness knows that woman has been a saint and a half.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm currently in the middle of moving my whole life a thousand miles for work, so I'm slowly working on the next chapter of 'Greetings to the New Brunette.' As always, you can drop me a line here or on Tumblr at twomeerkatsinatrenchcoat.


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